To See Satan Dance
by Ms. New York
Summary: No matter what she believed, or what she could see, the mirror could not lie...


**To See Satan Dance**

_A/N: Just a ditty I came up with in the middle of the night. I like to thank beahawk for her huge help and ideas she had suggested in this story. You are awesome, I couldn't get it done without you. :D Thanks a million for everything! *hugs* A warning for readers: very dark, that's all I will say. Oh, and I am assuming Margaret's father is dead, from Season 2 or something. Please review. :D:D It would mean the world to me. ^.^_

The woman, Margaret Houlihan could have sworn that she could see Satan laughing in delight. As she looked in her mirror for self-examination, the figure that she took as Satan was behind her giving a spooky cackled laugh that she dreaded. His head was back as the haunting laugh continued to linger into the woman's brain. Margaret knew what he was laughing at. He had been laughing at her for a very long time in the wings.

The mirror could not lie, no matter what Margaret thought or wished for. As she looked in the mirror, she noticed that her body wasn't the same. The platinum-blonde hair that was once glowing was now dull, frail and thin. The radiant and yet at the same time icy blue green eyes which would once have frozen a man from the inside out were now sunken and glassy. The face was now a skeleton that she didn't even recognize. And her body in general - her arms, legs, hips and the rest of her was nothing more than skin and bones. Sure she tried eating real food just like the rest of the unit known as the 4077th MASH wanted to eat real food but unfortunately her system wasn't used to the real food yet. She would try little things but her system was still used to the powdered milk and rations of sorts. It was going to take some time before she too could savor and memorize the tastes of the foods she once knew before the war. For right now it just wasn't possible since the certain foods she loved did not agree with her.

Satan continued to laugh at the failed former major. This boosted up his morale tenfold.

"_You are nothing," _He hissed through his teeth.

At his side now, his dark angels celebrated as well. They were to get this soul.

The woman's face turned to anger, but then softened as the reflection of Satan's face curved into a cruel grin. She turned back to the sunken eyes in the mirror. Her hand reached out to touch the glass. She needed to see if it was her; if this was really happening, if this was what she became. To her dismay, it was and she was sure it was not a dream. The cool glass throbbed on her fingertips and tears started to make way down her cheeks. He was right. He was always right.

After the war Major Margaret Houlihan served her time at the 8063rd Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, until she got transferred back to the United States. At first her plan was to serve at an army base perhaps in California's Fort Ord; her 'home' so to speak. The plans changed soon after nightmares started to plague her in the dead of night. The dreams of blood, wounded and bodies of young men and villagers made her sick inside. She didn't want to see the blood or the bodies anymore. She didn't think her stomach could handle it even if it was only a clinic. No one could blame her. After all it was her life. She was to take control and no one could tell her otherwise.

So this was the life she chose; living in an apartment and currently searching for a job. Civilian life wasn't as easy as Margaret thought. She was raised on the army and that was all she knew. Now, she would have to readjust to different surroundings and the life she had chosen.

She removed her hand from the mirror horrified that this was actually her. This reflection couldn't be her-- it wasn't her. The old Margaret Houlihan was a stern woman who could do anything she pleased. Satan shivered in his cloven hooves at the sight of this woman and wouldn't dare go near her. But now the woman in mirror was a fright to society and to herself. She was scared to eat or sleep in fear of the memories that kept holding her back. This was why Satan had returned - he could now take control of her without fear or objection. This was why he laughed in delight. The once fearless woman was transformed to a feeble weak woman who was on the verge of schizophrenia. The life Margaret once planned had now failed in so many ways.

Quietly, she cried not wanting to show her tears to the devil.

"_What did I tell you, Ms. Houlihan? You are a nothing now." _

Margaret turned around quickly making her head spin. Pointing at the figure she screamed, "SHUT UP!" as loud as she could through her choked sobs but she got her message across. She sniffled a little. Then, silence then followed.

The woman turned back to the mirror crestfallen once more at the fact that Satan was still there being silent but loving every moment of Margaret's pain. Once more, she studied herself in the mirror.

Her clothes sagged; her pants were baggy where a belt wouldn't help. When people looked at her, she could have sworn she heard them whisper behind her back wondering whether she was a refuge or not and if she needs analysis from a therapist or worst: to be put away. She didn't listen, she didn't want to listen. She was sane. A doctor she saw a while back just said it was stress from everything that had happened and he gave her pills to take for depression and anxiety; it was normal and it would go away. She was sane as the next person. There was nothing wrong with her mind. Nothing.

_"Are you still not convinced?" _He asked breaking the silence that Margaret longed. Her teeth gritted together at the sight of him her eyes squinting angrily through the mirror as he continued on. _"Look at yourself, Ms. Houlihan, you honestly think that you could possible go back to normal?" _He walked; hooves tapping with each step getting closer to her making a rhythm that Margaret had no choice but to memorize. He came to where Margaret could feel his presence and it made her blood boil and sent her heart pounding. She didn't know if it was going to pound inside her chest. She closed her eyes, taking a breath praying to God that this wasn't happening and that he would go away like dust.

She refused to speak, her eyes were still watery and her vision was blurred. But no matter how blurred it was; he was still there haunting her every day and he wouldn't go away until she'd agree to go with him. To answer his question, she shook her head fiercely. His response was a simple smile knowing what was inside the woman's mind.

_"My dear." _He started as he put his hands on his shoulders. His hands were cold and hard. The voice was calm and soothing. "_That was a great answer. You can understand now that there is no way for your life to be back to normal. This war has changed you whether you will accept it or not. You actually believe that you could change your life around. Poor, poor girl." _He chuckled as Margaret glared at him through the glass her eyes piercing and convincing.

She needed to fight back. But in the back of her mind, the guts of Margaret J. Houlihan went with her spirit: it died. It died along with her state of humanity which of course died in the war. The words of Satan pierced into her heart like a dagger. It wounded her, leaving her for dead.

He let go of her as he continued smiling knowing that she was bound to give up sooner or later. Satan could feel a slight of hope left in her, as he was slowly demolishing her little by little. He knew of her past loves, Frank Burns, Donald Penobscott and somewhat of Scully, but mostly Hawkeye Pierce. He knew the time in the tent and those little times that may seem nothing to the human eye. He could read people, and play with their emotions as if it were a toy or a game that he could gamble on. But mostly, he could become any form of people's desires and convince them… he has done it before and he knew he could do it again. Right then, before her eyes, he formed into Hawkeye Pierce. He had the blue eyes, the classy grin, and the raven black hair. Margaret's eyes widen as she just watched in amazement unsure of what he was about to do. Satan knew this was the way to win her.

_"Margaret," _he said as he turned her around with his hands with his strong grip on her arms.

At first, Margaret's eyes fluttered in amazement at the man by the name of Hawkeye. She studied the face; remember every feature of the man she once knew. His eyes still glisten a sky blue which always dazzled her, he had the smile that she always remembered; cocky and yet amusing, the many things she found enjoyable. She wanted to touch him but at first was hesitant, so her hands stayed together unsure of what to do with them.

_"Margaret," _He spoke again, his hands still on her arms. _"It's time to stop trying and accept things. What life do you honestly have? Do you think you can live on like this? You don't have much of a life. You do not eat, you cannot eat, I should say. You can't even hold a job. And you can't even get a job."_ His voice was just like Hawkeye's; the northeastern accent. His hands went to her face, feeling her warm skin underneath the fingertips. Margaret shuttered for a moment still keeping a conscious mind. His tone changed to a whisper as he came closer to her ear. _"Listen to me, you cannot go on, come with me." _Satan knew this was the way to reel her into his domain. It was too obvious; too simple.

The face of Margaret Houlihan changed from sadness and depressed to angry with fury. She knew Hawkeye Pierce would never tell anyone to give up on life. He was a doctor! A devoted surgeon who forced life, not destroy it. Hawkeye Pierce would tell her to live. But... there was still a slight doubt within her that she wasn't showing.

She swept his hand off of her and backed up one step shaking the last thought out of her. "No! You can never give up on life!" She said showing confidence in her cracked voice.

Satan laughed; amused at the thought as if it was a joke. _"You call this a life?"_ He asked motioning her with his hands which was just like Hawkeye's movements.

"It's life," Her voice tighten. "Life has its ups and downs. I'll get through again. I always have, ever since I was a little girl. I have survived and I will survive!" Her life flashed into memory of readjusting to new places when her late father, Colonel 'Howitzer' Al Houlihan would move the family. It was the army life. She was shaking.

_"Indeed. You're not getting any better, Ms. Margaret. You'd be better off with me, and there's an easier way to get there. All you have to do is take the whole bottle of those pills you have been prescribed. You will be at peace and you won't have to worry about this life anymore. You won't have to fight; you won't have to be this." _He stepped towards her just like Hawkeye would. _"You can't get better, Margaret. You can say all you want, but you cannot get better. Come with me, and I promise you that you will have no more suffering. I know you want to." _He couldn't grin on the outside but on the inside, he was cheerful. He had her in the palm of her hand. _"Come with me," _Once again, he said stretching his arm out for her.

She stared at it, dumbfounded. She then looked at his face. He was stern, but inside the blue eyes she fell for, she could see accomplishment; and defeat. Her eyes once again were going to weld up tears but she fought against them. Patiently, he still waited for her. But Margaret didn't move much. Knowing where the pills were, she swiped them from the table and clutched them into her hand as tightly as she could. Hawkeye would want her to be happy…

She turned to the mirror, observing the preserved glass seeing herself for the millionth time. Margaret knew this wasn't the answer, but she didn't know who to believe anymore or what to do. Perhaps she should go with him… or perhaps not. She has too much to life for to let this get to her. This was just another challenge that the Houlihan would have to triumph over, like all the Houlihans' did. But this one wasn't easy. He was right, but she couldn't bare herself to give up on life right now. She would get back on top again, she would. She can't give up, she just can't. The only thing Margaret could do was trying harder, and that's exactly what she was going to do. It wasn't easy, every time he talked, she felt as if it would be easier just to go with him and have her body rest in peace. She had to fight and keep on fighting for the good of her soul. But now, she was unsure of what would be good for her soul anymore.

_If_ she did follow him, too many regrets would run through her like a stream and too many people would blame themselves for what had happened to her. But perhaps, she could be at peace…

Satan was still in Hawkeye's form, waiting with a cocky grin. He wasn't going away. _"Come Margaret. Come." _He beckoned. _"You know you want to." _

Margaret's hands slowly made way to her scalp, first dropping the pills. Her nails were making way through the skin and hair making way between the fingers. The mirror has done the same thing. Showing how loud she could be, from her diaphragm, she screamed louder than she has ever screamed in her entire life.

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Margaret Houlihan once saw Satan dancing in the mirror. She once saw Satan laughing at her with that dreaded cackle she absolutely hated. She once saw her former self within the mocking mirror as it laughed at her. She once saw Satan laughing through the mirror waiting to consume her.

She opened her eyes, her hands making way down from her face. The icy blue-green eyes wandered around the room seeing if he was there. In front of her was still the mirror; not cracked and unchanged. The reflection still showed her. At first, Margaret wanted to rejoice, but then she wanted to cry. So she mixed at the moment. She at first laughed and using the tears of laughter for relief and celebration, they suddenly changed to actual sadness from her soul. She would have to work harder to get what she wanted, but would anyone hire a woman who could see Satan? And a woman who possibly had schizophrenia? Maybe not, but Margaret would have to keep on trying, trying to get her life back in order, but she was scared. Which was normal, but it would take some time…She had all the time in the world. She rather die trying to persuade something than die and have done nothing at all.

Deep down, she knew that this battle would be over, but the war wasn't. She knew that Satan would never disappear so easily; he would keep trying. Margaret knew that. Next time, he could continue to come in a different form: her mother, her late father, it could be anyone Margaret was ever close to.

She noticed the pills once again, and she gripped them once more protecting them saving them in case she needed them again. Margaret went to the ground, in a fetal position, knees tucked in close to her with the pills still in her hand. Slowly, she rocked back and forth whimpering words that she didn't want the mirror to hear unable to decide what to do.

The mirror once saw Margaret Houlihan as a tough and fearless woman. The mirror now saw her as insane.

~~~~Fin~~~~


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